Perfect Alliance
by Shawn
Summary: A take on Cinderella Story. Tyler's going to the dance with Heather...right?


Disclaimer: IaHB and its characters belong to Disney and Alliance-Atlantis.  
  
I expect this tale to be epic compared to my other stories. Thank you for all the inspiration you've given me, everyone. =) Another way the dance ep. could have gone.  
  
This entire story is for Laura, aka dLQ77 : ] In hopes that you feel much better soon!  
  
  
  
Perfect Alliance  
Prologue  
  
  
Seven forty-five. The sun had long since set, and now the night had settled in for a long stay. Breezes blew past the blades of grass swimming in pools of blue. Evergreens blanketed in white snow created draping shadows across the concrete. Tawny owls awoke and squirrels were driven to sleep. The atmosphere was still, calming in every aspect possible.  
  
An apple red convertible sped across the highway, inevitably breaking the peace. It trampled on the worn gravel and threatened anything in its path. A teenage girl maintained the driver's seat with an air of confidence and mirth. She displayed long auburn hair, crystal blue eyes, and a mischievous smile on her face. Rings of gold and silver shimmered on her fingers, charm bracelets dangled from her wrists, and miniscule diamond earrings hung from her ears. Daddy's girl had never gone long without gaining the treasure she wanted. She only had to snap her fingers, and instantly it appeared, courtesy of the adoring father who regarded her as his one and only masterpiece.  
  
Her car was a particularly valuable possession. When they had gone shopping for the best car, she had run from display to display, distraught at the fact that nothing felt right. Finally, she settled on the most expensive black Porsche on the floor and demanded a color change. The result was her prized "Pory", which she nicknamed the car. She had gone so far as to hug her parents for the gift. Never had their smiles been so wide.  
  
But, sadly, her latest obsession could not be appeased through parental means. This time, her craze was on a guy. More specifically, a popular football player named Tyler Connell. He had dreamy blue eyes, adorable blond hair, and a practically perfect reputation. She wanted him on sight, and had tried to grab his full attention since they met. Yet he seemed to only have eyes for Val Lanier. Val, of all people!, she seethed. She desperately needed some kind of miracle to get Tyler away from Val.  
  
And amazingly, it had happened a couple of days ago. The two had finally broken up, it seemed, and she could finally meet Tyler alone. Like a jungle animal, she had pounced on her prey.  
  
She lazily reached over to the adjoining seat and retrieved her cell phone. Better not to let Tyler get too restless and change his mind about the dance. Already she could feel his arms around her while they glided on the dance floor. She could hear the jealous murmurs of her best friends and see the approving nods among the other popular people. They were meant for each other.  
  
"Hello?" answered a hopeful tenor voice on the other end. "Val?"  
  
"Val?!?!?!?!?" She fairly screeched, fully awake from her daydream but only faintly aware of whom she was talking to. "Where do you get off calling me THAT?"  
  
Silence followed, until a timid voice exhaled and replied, "Oh. Sorry, Heather."  
  
"Give me time. I might forgive you." Heather whispered seductively into the receiver. She had the power to make anyone feel uncomfortable and shy when she felt like it. "What are you doing now, Tylerkins?"  
  
"Nothing really."  
  
"Getting ready for the dance at least?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Uh-huh."  
  
"I'm glad that you are, Ty," she managed, biting her lip in thought. Secretly she wondered if he knew how big of a deal this was to her. "I can't wait to see your outfit."  
  
"It's nothing much."  
  
"In my opinion, you'd look good in anything, love." She purred, administering the sophistication she learned from her friends. Eagerly she awaited his response, wondering if he felt the same urge to see her as she did him.  
  
"Heather, could you not say that?"   
  
The question cut through the air, sharp as a sedated knife.  
  
She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. "But I really really like you Tyler, and I want to be with you. Why can't I call you love, Tylerkins?" Heather almost gagged at how childish her words came out. She chewed on a strand of hair while he took the time to answer.  
  
"Because...well, please, just don't." Why would he be feeling this way? What was-wait. Val. All this pining and deceiving would not make Tyler hers. He belonged to Val Lanier.  
  
The auburn-haired cheerleader rapidly blinked at her almost new realization. "Ummm...okay. Yeah, uh, fine. Listen, let's just forget about this date."  
  
"No, Heather, wait-" He began uncertainly.  
  
"No, Tyler." She countered sadly, laying on the grief. "Your damsel in distress needs you. I bet she's waiting, Prince Charming."  
  
"Heather-"  
  
Heather threw the cell phone to the other side of the car and started bawling her heart out very audibly.  
  
She heard earnest yells from the phone, and finally a dial tone. She smiled softly to herself. Right about now he was probably half-drowned in guilt. No matter what it took, she'd pry Tyler from Val's claws, or else her name wasn't Heather Stillmore.  
  
Tyler would most definitely go to the dance, probably in search of her to get her forgiveness. He was that kind of caring guy. And she'd be right there, fully dried tears and wide, open arms.  
  
She giggled cheerfully at the thought and leaned back in reflection. Her eyes met the headlights of a truck speeding right toward her.   
  
  
  
  
  
Heather Stillmore swerved the car to the right immediately and stomped her foot on the brakes. The truck veered toward her, unsteady and veering to its left. She felt mesmerized by the blinding light, as if time was moving slowly because of it. The sleek black tires skidded on the gravel, hanging on for dear life. One more second and she'd be road kill.   
  
But life granted her a reprieve from the clutches of death. She encountered a grassy spot on the side of the road and stayed there, breathing hard and wiping at the sweat beads on her brow. Heather recovered, took off her seatbelt, and slammed the door behind her. The truck had halted a hundred feet away. She read the sign on the side. "Stillmore Fashions," she read incredulously. "Must be Daddy's latest shipment. I'll have the driver's head for this."  
  
She quickly advanced to the huge truck for an interrogation, but before she could reach the door, the tires screeched and the truck raced away from the vengeful teenage girl.  
  
"How dare they..." She sputtered, definite hatred flowing in her veins. "I could've been killed! Mutilated! Daddy will have to be informed!"  
  
Heather grabbed her key from her pocket and rushed to her convertible. She flung the door back and jumped in, turning the key to get started. But after four tries, the car would not start. She hit the dashboard, never having been stranded and irritated that it had to happen just when she had news.  
  
"Can I help you, ma'am?"  
  
She peered out her window. A man, clean-shaven and clearly of her class, approached the vehicle. "It's the engine, I suppose, miss. I'd love to help, I took a class in this," he offered politely, his dark eyes staring straight into hers.  
  
Heather smiled dazedly. He was handsome AND charming? Maybe Tyler could wait. "Sure, okay." She pressed the button to open the front lid of the car.  
  
Interestingly enough, it didn't take him long. He shut the lid carefully and shot her a thumb's up.   
  
She nodded, and opened her mouth to speak. Perhaps to show him how grateful she was, or to congratulate him on his timing; but she closed it, unable to form the words for some reason. She waved and started the car. Silently she sped away, a girlish look of happiness on her face.  
  
The man simply smiled.  
  
  
  
  
  
Heather absentmindedly thought about what she would say to Tyler when she arrived at the dance. It was still half an hour away. Maybe she could write down a "I-forgive-you-now-dance-with-me-or-die-in-your-misery" speech before she got there. She finally reached the end of the highway and commenced to turn.  
  
But it is impossible to turn correctly when one's brakes are cut.  
  
There was no fighting it this time. "Pory" veered on Mansfield Avenue, spun around twice, tipped over, and slammed into a tree. Flames burst out of the front, enveloping the car in a golden orange haze.  
  
  
  
  
I had to torture someone. Guess it had to be Heather. =) I don't remember if we saw her in the dance episode, but if we did, just forget my description :] Thanks for reading, Chapter 1 ought to be coming along shortly!  



End file.
